His phone buzzed in his pocket. For one irrational moment, he thought it might be her. But it was just a text from his mother: *"Have you found her yet?"*
He didn't respond.
Thomas took a long, shaky breath. Then another. He was a Specter. He didn't fall apart in some woman's house like some lovesick teenager. He was better than this. He was *better*.
But the anger kept rising. Not just at her, but at himself. For becoming too relaxed.
He wouldn't make that mistake again.
In the end, she was just a mark.
--
Thomas's thumb hovered over Zayn's name for a full thirty seconds before he pressed call.
He was a Specter. He didn't beg. He didn't plead. He *requested*. And right now, he was requesting his cousin's assistance with the appropriate amount of dignity befitting their station. Th
